Back to School
by Amithedragontrainer
Summary: What happens when Reid and Morgan are forced to represent the FBI at a high school career day? A one-shot.


Dr. Spencer Reid and S.S.A. Derek Morgan had been on many depressing and frustrating car rides. That much was certain. Their cases did not always have happy endings.

This car ride was of a very different nature. The two agents were not driving to some state to apprehend a serial killer, a kidnapper, a psychopath.

The two men were going to a high school career day.

Due to his less than pleasant memories of high school, Reid was tapping. He tapped the dashboard, the window, the door, the roof, the floor. This was not making Morgan any more cheery. Currently, Morgan was wondering, over and over, _Why me_?  
>He actually knew the answer. He, Morgan, was a successful person with a troubled background. Reid was a young, smart person – albeit a very socially awkward person.<p>

Finally, Morgan snapped, "Reid."

Reid jerked his head to look at Morgan. "Yes, Morgan?"

"Stop with the tapping." Reid obliged. However, because of all his nervous energy, Reid began to do something that Morgan found worse.

Reid began lecturing _about _the tapping. He talked about how fast he was tapping and where he was tapping and why he was tapping and how it all had to do with subconscious parts of the brain.

Morgan decided to choose his battles and keep quiet.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Inheritance High School was a very good school, by any educator's standards. There were extracurricular activities aplenty, a posse of experienced teachers, closets and closets filled with quality supplies. The theatre was decked with state-of-the-art equipment and glamorous costumes. The cafeteria smelled wonderful and was always calm. The gym was as clean as a whistle and as shiny as a new silver spoon.

However, there are two parts to every school. The school, and the students.

True, they were a smart bunch. But they could also be a cruel, crude, ignorant bunch.

Reid was thinking this as he mopped his forehead with a napkin. He and Morgan were seated at a folding table in front of the bleachers in the aforementioned gym.

Morgan was noticing another problem entirely, relating to the sign in front of the table. This sign simply read "The BAU". Apparently, the students had no idea what the BAU was. And the few who did know were too petrified to come up.

Only three people had come up to the stand. Three girls covered in makeup, Prada, and perfume. When Reid saw them coming, he, on account of having been bullied by these sorts of girls, started having vivid flashbacks of fighting in the Vietnam War.

Reid had never fought in the Vietnam War.

Morgan was glad to have someone – anyone – to talk to other than the human encyclopedia sitting next to him. His hopes of less-intelligent-than-Reid conversation were crushed when the queen bee of the trio delivered her line unto Morgan:

"Hi, you're gorgeous. I _love _your tie."

Reid nearly whimpered, and Morgan blinked. "Thank you?" he said.

The queen bee and her minions giggled. "You're welcome," exclaimed the minion on the right.

"Are you married?" shrieked the minion on the left.

Morgan was fine with women his age flirting with him, but high school girls were not okay. Unbidden, every picture he'd ever seen of a murdered, decapitated high school girl flashed in his mind.

"That," he told the girls firmly, "is not the point." All three teenagers froze. Morgan continued. "My co-worker and I are here to represent the FBI for your school career day. Now, do you have any questions about jobs in the bureau?"

All the girls' smooth talk evaporated. "N-no, th-th-thanks, we're g-good," stuttered the left minion.

"Y-yeah, see ya," whispered the right minion.

"Bye" was all the queen bee could manage. They turned and ran as fast as their high heels could let them. Reid let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding.

Morgan grinned at him. "You're afraid of a bunch of teenage girls?"

Reid bit his lip, then answered, "They look a lot scarier when you're shorter than them and you aren't carrying any weapons."

Morgan shrugged.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Take a look," Morgan said, speaking for the first time in five minutes. Reid looked where Morgan was nodding and saw a teenage boy wearing a dark blue baseball cap. The boy was currently at the booth where two farmers sat; the land workers were excitedly stuffing the boy's hands with pamphlets.

"That boy wants to be a farmer?" asked Reid, confused.

Morgan shook his head. "Keep watching." Both did. The boy walked away from the booth and into his crowd of friends, though making sure that the farmers could still see him. Then, the boy crumpled up all the papers the men had given him, tossed them onto the floor, and laughed along with his friends at the farmers' crestfallen faces.

Reid frowned and Morgan growled, "That kid's been doing that to every booth with no lines or visitors."

"And he's coming here next," realized Reid. There was a pause. Then both men grinned.

Morgan cracked his knuckles under the table. "This is gonna be fun."

After the boy laughed with his friends for a minute, he adjusted his hat, put an innocent, inquisitive look on his face, and strolled toward Reid and Morgan.

"Hey," the kid said when he reached the table. "You guys are the BAU?"

"That's right, kid," said Morgan, a huge smile on his face. "The Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

"Whoah," said the boy, with a big smile. Reid admired his acting skills.

"We study behavior to determine more about the criminal, or criminals, and the victim or victims," said Reid, handing him a pamphlet.

"How do you study the criminal's behavior if you don't know who the criminal is?" the teen asked, pretending to read the pamphlet.

Morgan said, "The way he kills or kidnaps someone, who he targets, where he gets them– those are all clues to who the guy is."

Reid nodded. That means paying attention to details."

"Which means that you wouldn't be cut out for this job," added Morgan, suddenly straight-faced and menacing.

The teen, for a second, looked confused. "Huh?"

Morgan shook his head. "You have a girlfriend," he stated.

Reid nodded and informed the teen, "The way you constantly keep your back toward the wall, the fact that the brim of your hat is tilted up so you can see all around you – I'd say you have roughly two girlfriends."

The kid jumped. "No way," he squawked, "I just got one."

Morgan shook a finger at him. "Oh, dilated pupils and quickened pulse! You're lying!"

"One of them – her name starts with J, doesn't it?" asked Reid. "I see remnants of permanent marker on your neck."

The boy jumped again, rubbing his neck. "I thought I got that off," he whispered.

"I'm guessing your mom is single and she's been working late at A&O Clothing Store," said Morgan, jutting his chin forward.

Narrowing his eyes, the teen glared at Morgan. "What've you been doing, stalking me?"

"Not at all," interrupted Reid. "All of your clothes are from A&O, and they're also all dirty. Your mom was working late at the store so she didn't notice your dirty clothes. Mothers don't work at high-class stores like that unless they have bills to pay and the money doesn't come from the father."

The boy was stiff now.

Morgan leaned forward, eyes sparking. "We ain't stupid, kid. We've seen you conning every lonely table in this room and tearing up their handouts." The agent pulled the pamphlet out of the teen's limp hand. "Later," he said, smirking up at the boy.

"Or not," added Reid.

"We'll be watching," whispered Morgan, folding his arms across his chest and showing developed muscles.

The kid, rather understandably, took off.

Reid smiled. "That was fun."

Morgan slapped him on the back. "Nice trick with the marker."

Reid looked confused, saying, "I actually did see marker."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Bzzzzt_! Morgan winced. "I'll never get used to that. What kind of bell is that?" The intercom came on, and the principal began chattering about school plays, lacrosse games, and bus schedules.

"Finally, we're done," Morgan said, stretching.

Reid slowly stood up out of his chair. "I need coffee," he told his friend and co-worker.

Morgan stood up too. "Don't we both," he groaned.

Reid looked over at his friend. "So, was this worth it?"

Morgan thought about it for a second as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. "Nah," he answered.

Reid looked surprised. "Really?"

Morgan nodded at him, then grinned. "It wasn't worth it, but the look on that kid's face-"

"Was," finished Reid, thoughtfully. Then, he sped up his pace. "Let's go to Starbucks!"

"Hear the man!" crowed Morgan.


End file.
